


Being “Good”

by Jupiters_Witch



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Masturbation, Plot With Porn, Reader Insert, Sexual Slavery, When I write more I suppose, Yandere Jumin Han, Yandere Male, dubcon, eventual cage use, im not sure how to tag this lmfao, more tags to come, nothing happens in the first chapter hhh, sex as punishment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiters_Witch/pseuds/Jupiters_Witch
Summary: Everything was fine until Jumin Han made the ultimate declaration of love, sealing you in as his “lover and companion” permanently. You know there’s no way out, not any way that Jumin would approve of. You just have to find an escape in your own way, even if that means going against being the perfect woman Jumin has molded you into.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is the mm fandom dead? It doesn’t matter. I’m late and it’s fine and I love Jumin Han and I had an idea and put it to paper. Yaaaay. It’s fine. We’re fine. Jumin’s fine. Reader is not fine. Hizzaht!

“When are you coming home? I miss you…” Your voice is just a whisper, raspy with need like you know Jumin Han likes. You set your phone down and finish applying your lipstick, a dark shade of red that always seems to captivate his eyes when you purse your lips at him. 

“Yes,” you hear him say over your phone’s speaker, “fax these over to the coordinator of the seventh branch.” There’s some shuffling of papers and you hear, “You’re excused.” 

The line is silent until the faint click of his office door signals the exit of one of his many assistants. You hear him sigh. “What are you doing right now?” 

“Wouldn’t you already know?” A bold question. Of course he told you about the GPS tracker he put in the back of your heels you usually wore around his penthouse when he was home (On a lot of days you opted to wear slippers because it was ridiculous to be expected to  _ only  _ be wearing those heels) but you theorized that he also has a few cameras installed around so he could watch you while he was away. 

“I want you to tell me,” his voice is low and dark, not unlike how it is when he’s behind you, in one of his  _ moods _ , about to touch you, about to  _ take you _ . It’s only natural that your body heats up at the sound; you had been molded to be compliant to him in nearly every way. 

You gingerly set your lipstick down onto the bathroom counter. “I’m laying in bed,” you fix your hair in the mirror, “I can smell your cologne on your pillow.” You let out a breathy sigh, allowing him to imagine you taking in and enjoying his scent. 

“Are you being a good girl?” 

Wasn’t that the question of the century? In truth, you had been good. You had been  _ so  _ good. At first, it was easy. You had been excited to be getting into something that might have been a little dangerous, but that had made it all the more  _ riveting _ . Jumin wanted to possess you and that struck something weird and dark and sensual within you and you had been so willing to let him take over your life in absolute; he’d dress you up (or down) to his satisfaction like a sweet little doll, changing your nutritional intake, choosing what hairstyle you had to wear, teaching you how to walk and talk, whether it was to him or to someone else on the off chance the two of you would go gallivanting about. You did have a bit of an issue with how controlling he actually became but it was so worth it to hear him say how perfect or extraordinary you were. Jumin Han was an honest man and so you knew that when he told you that you were stunning, he meant it. And that was  _ nothing  _ compared to the sex. 

_ God  _ the sex... He had warned you that once you gave him the opportunity to have his way with you, there would be no turning back, and goodness was he right. He displayed his control through rhythmic and sensual thrusts or dips of his hips, keeping you caged in with either his muscular arms or by simply using one of his many cold, steel toys. He had handcuffs and other traps to keep you in place, but he seemed to favor the pretty red ribbon that bound your wrists together so perfectly for him. The fierce look in his piercing gray eyes had you completely undone for him every time he would tear away and leave more of his “love” marks on you. “Love marks” he liked to call them but… he was branding you, in a way. He’d never let you leave the house with one of those marks visible to anyone else (how lewd peoplenwould think that two of you were) so if he knew he’d be taking you somewhere, those dark spots would be found in handfuls plaguing your thighs, chest, and stomach. You didn’t mind the pain that came from his biting and sucking; hearing him groan to himself and just  _ feeling  _ how pleased he got every time he was successful in leaving another little red mark, made every bit of sharp pain worth it. Still, he called them “love marks”... and that was the root of your biggest issue. 

“Love.” 

Two nights ago, while having dinner on the balcony of his penthouse, you had an  _ inkling  _ something was different because the violinist who was playing for the two of you happened to be the one you commented on the most when Jumin took you to see an orchestra play just a few weeks ago, and though Jumin buying clothes for you was nothing out of the ordinary, the dress he had you wearing was a bit too formal even for Jumin. Granted, you thought you looked pretty and Jumin had assured to you that you were simply “the most divine creature he had ever laid eyes on,” made you feel fantastic! So, you didn’t mind any of that  _ too  _ much but the weirdest thing about that night before you  _ knew  _ how  _ terrible  _ it was going to be was your meal. Was it an extravagant palette testing seven course dinner that you had nearly grown accustomed to?  _ No _ . It was an old recipe that your grandmother had, one that you told Jumin about before the two of you had officially met, before you even knew he had been listening to you. Every bite was so warm, enriching, and  _ nostalgic _ that you hadn’t even noticed when Jumin Han has gotten down on one knee. 

_ “Y/N L/N _ , _ ”  _ he had said when your eyes finally met his,  _ “never in all of my years did I think I’d be able to find someone who completely understands me. You make me feel natural. You make me feel loved. I owe the world and more to you because of this. You’ve brought light into the darkest hole in my heart. I have been blessed with the honor of calling you my lover, my companion, and now…,”  _ he gazed up at you with absolute admiration in his eye,  _ “I can’t wait any longer to have you completely mine. We will be so happy… together, always, through our marital bond. You will make me a jubilant husband and you will be my exceptional bride.” _

Then he slipped the ring on your finger. He didn’t even ask for your hand! The ring was heavy, you didn’t have to look at it to know that the price was out of this world. You didn’t know what to say. He didn’t ask… he just claimed your ring finger just like he had claimed you and decided your future with him was permanent… and you didn’t know if you actually wanted  _ that.  _

Jumin Han’s mind was set on marrying you and you already knew there was no way of changing his mind. Before you two had become “companions,” Jumin seemed to have a strong head on his shoulders. His mind was clear and practical when it came to everything whether it be business, his father, or matters within the RFA but when it came to you… he was different… unstable. It excited you at first but you were only ignoring the fact that he was dangerous. And you had to get out before your situation with him became permanent. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl for you, Jumin?” 

He lets out a doubtful hum. “You’ve been known to break a couple of our rules now and again, kitten. We both know how naughty you can be,” you can hear the squeak of his chair as he leans back, “am I going to have to punish you when I get home?” 

“That’s if you ever get home,” you retort too quickly. You’re anxious for him to get home soon. You couldn’t do what you planned to do without him home; security was too heavy while he was at work.”I mean… I haven’t done anything to be punished for… yet. But the devil finds work for idle hands and Jumin,” you run your hands across your skin and hope the phone can pick the sound up on his end, “and oh,  _ Jumin _ , my hands are very idle.” 

There’s a hitch in his breath and you can hear a click at his desk. “Assistant Kang, cancel my five o’ clock,” Jumin brings the phone against his lips, his voice dropping an octave as he says, “don’t you move a muscle until I get home. If you do anything naughty, I’ll know.” 

You smile sadly, careful to not let your voice crack, and say, “I’ll see you soon, my love.” You don’t wait for his response before you end the call. 


	2. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I wrote this many months ago, but never got around to posting it because I thought I was going to fix it. I... did not fix it. The problem with returning to fics that you started a ling time ago is dealing with like... how you used to write compared to how you write now. It’s pretty difficult and I’ve gotten a bit better at writing since I started this, but fuck it, I’m gonna post it. Sorry for the delay dyeivuwhc. I know mystic messenger isn’t that popular anymore, but this was still something fun to write!

When Jumin opens the door to his penthouse, he sees you sitting on his leather couch, ankles crossed, silently weaving and unraveling his little red ribbons around your wrists. It’s cute. You’re cute. He wants to unwind you just as you’re doing with the ribbon. 

Jumin locks the door, entering in his passcode before he turns to face the love of his life. 

“You got here quickly.” You stand and walk towards him with a near perfect stride—one elegant foot in front of the other. You place a hand on his chest and tilt your head ever so slightly to the side. “You wanted to catch me being naughty that badly?”

“Is it a crime to be eager to see my fiancée?” You purse your lips and Jumin feels his body heat up at the sight of that sensual ruby red color puckered only for him. He previously picked it out for you, at first unsure of the hue would match your skin tone, but it was perfect. He made  _ you  _ perfect. 

The back of his hand caresses your soft cheek and your lips part subtly… enticingly. Jumin claims them immediately, not willing to stand another second without tasting you. You’re sweet, like you’ve been eating blueberries. It makes Jumin happy knowing that you’ve been taking care of yourself while he was away, but now that he’s thought about it… 

He takes your hands into his and unwraps the red ribbon. “Now, has my little kitten been good?” 

You hum and tug at the ribbon in your hand, playing with his pale fingers. You kiss him again and you’re teasingly slow—plush lips grazing his in a way that makes his loins tingle. You give him a wry grin and say, “I thought you’d already know.” 

He takes the ribbon and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you snug against his torso. He stares down into your mischievous eyes and he  _ wants  _ to bend you over the arm of the ouch and have you  _ weep  _ for him, but he knows you’ve not done anything to be punished for. He knows because he’d been watching you on his phone the entire drive home. You’ve only been sitting there, waiting for him obediently. It was odd, but maybe you really were just missing him. 

He sighs. “I do.” 

You laugh lightly and press your hand into his chest. “You sound disappointed.” 

“You could never disappoint me, my angel. However, I do wish we had a reason to use this,” he says, pulling tighter on the ribbon wrapped around you. You bite your lip and Jumin nearly melts. 

“Who says we need a reason?” You quip, tiptoeing your fingers up his chest, pushing your hand through his suit jacket to massage his pecks. Jumin shudders, an aching in his lions building up. 

“Not I,” he grabs your wrist, ready to tie you up. It has been awhile since the two of you have used his pretty red ribbon. It was mainly used at the beginning of your relationship to teach you how to behave around him, to teach you how to be the best version of yourself, or to teach you a lesson when you’ve acted out of line. Of course, when a special occasion called for it, Jumin never turned down the opportunity to have you bound and tied, reposed on his bed to be absolutely vulnerable to him, to both his pleasure and yours. You must have been feeling neglected lately. Jumin plans to correct that with an abundance of his love. 

“Jumin, wait,” you object and retract your hand only to weave your fingers with his. “I would like to try something different tonight.” 

Jumin lifts a brow. “Different how?” 

“Well, I…”

Jumin slides his free hand down your back side and rests it on your ass. He leans down, leveling his head with yours and he can feel the heat radiating off of your face. “What does my princess want? You know I'll give her anything.” 

You smile sweetly at him, but there’s something dark in your eyes. There must be something troubling you and he wants to ask you about it but you pull him into a kiss, your delicate tongue sliding across his lips as you weave a hand through his hair. “Well,” you say and gift him another kiss. “What if it were my turn? Just for tonight?” 

“ _ Your  _ turn?” Jumin asks, unsure about what exactly you mean. He’s weary, but enticed. You’re already walking backwards, guiding him to the bedroom. Needless to say, he likes where this is going. 

His blazer meets the ground, his tie unwound, and the eager Jumin begins undoing his belt. When the back of your knees touch his king-sized bed, he almost pushes you back down against the sheets out of habit, but you put a steady hand on his shoulder and roll him over so he’s on the bed with you straddling him. 

“ _ Angel _ -“ Jumin starts to protest. One, beautiful finger rests against his lips and you shush him, leading your hands down to his dress-shirt. You pluck at his buttons and gingerly kiss at his exposed chest. Jumin slides his hands down your arms with the straps of your dress going down with them. You grab them immediately. 

“Ah-“ you raise his hands above his head and roll your hips, rubbing yourself on his hardening erection. “Jumin, honey, you said that you’d give me anything. Is that not true?” 

You loop the ribbon around Jumin’s metal headboard and lead it back to his wrist. Jumin eyes you suspiciously. “Yes, but-“

“And you trust me with your whole heart? I’m your soul companion, right sweetheart?” 

“ _ Kitten _ ,” he says pointedly. Jumin has never been out in this position before, bound and goes and at  _ your  _ disposal. It’s new. It’s different. He’s not sure about it, but that little lip pout you do does him in. He relaxes and you tie both of his hands so his arms are spread apart, unable to reach down to touch you. You compliment his predicament by placing a scarf over his eyes. 

Jumin  _ hates _ not being able to see you, but your lips brushing against his abs above his navel, has him flexing and breathing in harsh anticipation. 

Your light fingers tickle his hips while you bring his pants down. Cool air meets his heavy cock, but he’s relieved immediately by your hot tongue licking a stripe up to the sensitive head of his cock. You kiss the tip and swirl your tongue around him. The buzzing from your cute little hums drive him insane. 

“I want to look at you,” Jumin rasps while you take him in. Your soft lips wrapping around his dick is  _ everything.  _ You suck him off like it’s your job and you’re damn good at it.m. He groans when your head bobs down on him. Your mouth is so warm; it’s a fantastic feeling, but he wants nothing more than to see your caring eyes meet his gaze, to know that you’re doing this not only for yourself, but for him, too. He pulls at his restraints out of necessary habit; it’s not enough to get him free, but it’s enough to remind him that you really want this. And he’d do anything for you. 

“Tell me when you’re close, baby,” you whisper, using a hand to twist and pump his cock. Jumin groans while you work his shaft and tease his head with your ludicrously skillful tongue. Jumin remembers getting irrationally jealous when the two of you first started making love. You always made him feel so good, but knowing that there have been steps—previous conquests to get you to where you are always seem to make his shoulders tense. 

“I want to fuck you,” he growls, hating all the mental pictures painted inside his mind. “I’m close, hon— _ hah _ —honey. I’m-“ Jumin starts to shake, gripping sharply onto his sheets. 

You slide off of him, your lips popping as you do so. Jumin grounds his teeth together, his whole body tensing and untensing. He just wants to be able to see you, to touch you, to love you the way you both knew. He can only relax when he feels your breath against his lips. Jumin breathes through his teeth. “I want out. Now.” 

“Jumin, sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about,” you croon, rubbing your hands against his chest. “You trust me, right?” 

“Yes,” he manages harshly, “but I want to touch you now. Let me, kitten. Let me inside.” 

“I will,” you promise quickly. Jumin notes a hint of desperation in your voice. Your voice drops and I trance when you say, “I want you inside me too, Jumin. So badly. Just… please wait a moment. Do you think you can do that for me?” 

Jumin hesitates. You push your lips into his—trying to make him a bit more agreeable, probably. You still taste so sweet, so he kisses you back. He pulls against the restraints again, but your hands massage his arms. You’re trying and he can tell. He has to tell himself to keep calm; however, when your lips meet his neck, his anxiety flares up again. 

“No.” 

“ _ Jumin _ —,” you whine. 

“I will have you untie me and that’s final.” 

“Just give me a minute,” you beg, your voice cracking a bit. You press your chest and he can feel your hair fall over his face. Your fingers massage his scalp, so he can tell that you’re aware of how anxious he is, and you’re trying to relieve him, but it doesn’t help. It won’t work until he can see you. 

But then he feels something wet fall on his cheek. You’re crying. He can’t… understand why this means so much to you, but he never wants to be the reason for your tears. Again, your sweet lips meet his and you give him one more plea. 

“Just one minute, Jumin. You can even count. I won’t mind. If you still don’t like this after  _ one  _ minute, I’ll let you free and then-“ you lean in close to his ear, your breath sends shivers down his spine “-you can do  _ whatever  _ you want to me. I’ll be your perfect little kitten.” 

You already are his perfect little kitten. He knows that. You would never do anything to harm him and he can do this  _ one  _ thing for you and not for him. He relents. 

“You have one minute. And then,” he says, finally cracking a grin, “you’re all mine.” 

“Thank you,” you say like the burden of the world has flown off your shoulders. You kiss him again, deeply, passionately. Your lips mold to his so finally, so  _ perfectly _ , that Jumin imagines that this is the kiss you will give him on your wedding day. And then, you say, “I’m sorry.” 

Your presence exits the bed. Jumin listens to you scurry around the room, your heels clacking as you move back and forth, and he wonders what you’re fetching. Wax candles? A toy? He’s almost eager to find out. 

You let out an aggravated sigh. “I can’t… get these off.” 

“The heels?” Jumin asks. “Leave them on…” 

There’s silence. Jumin decides to count. 

When he gets to  _ thirty _ , Jumin hears the beeping of the keypad at the front door, followed by a curse. 

_ No.  _

He calls your name. 

No response. 

He screams your name and he hears the beeping of the passcode once more. 

In a hysterical rage, Jumin rips his arm from your poorly tied restraints, tears the blindfold from his head, and rushes towards the front door, barely even to pull his pants up while he does so. You’re nowhere insight and Jumin curses mercilessly while he hammers in the passcode for the penthouse. He throws the door open and calls your name, checks the elevator to see if there’s movement, and grabs the phone to inform security that you’re missing. While he speaks to the head of security in a panic, he gazes towards the balcony and sees that the sliding glass door has been opened. 

“ _ No _ ,” he says out loud. He drops the phone and sprints to the balcony, his mind taking him to the worst possible place. You would never— _ could  _ never do something like  _ that  _ to him. It’s impossible. You have never shown him any signs of depression and if you did, he would take  _ care of you _ . 

Jumin pushes his arms against the balcony fence and peers down at the city beneath him. All he sees are lights. He hisses through his teeth and pulls his sweating hands through his hair. He turns back into the house just in time to see you run across the living room towards the penthouse door that  _ he left open.  _

Jumin barks out your name and runs towards you with forceful integrity. He’s on you before you can even get your foot out the door. His arms wrap around your torso and lifts you up like you weigh nothing—hell, you could weigh nothing because  _ nothing  _ is heavier than the thought of  _ losing you _ . 

You scream and thrash in his embrace, clawing at his arms, his chest, anything you could sink your nails into. While you try to pound on him, Jumin kicks the doors shut and initiates a special security protocol he previously had installed for instances such as these. He had hoped he’d never have to use it. 

“JUMIN!!” You bellow, squirming around while he walks you to the couch. He wraps his arms around you and crushed you against his chest. His grip is vice—there’s no possible way you can get away from him like this. 

While you sob into his shoulder, Jumin tries to steady his breathing. He inhales the scent of your conditioner, listens to the rapid beating of your stubborn heart, and holds you. He  _ holds  _ you. You’re here, with him, in his arms,  _ his.  _

It takes minutes for you to settle down, but Jumin isn’t quite there yet. He’d thought you’d thrown yourself off the balcony for God’s sake! 

“I didn’t mean it,” you cry, now cradling his face. Jumin can tell you’re stricken by his checked out expression. He’s loosened his hold on you, so you could crawl out of his lap and lock yourself in the bedroom if you so wanted to, but you don’t. Instead, your lips are everywhere on him and you’re apologizing. Again and again. It’s sorrowful and pathetic and Jumin almost enjoys it. 

“Jumin, baby, talk to me,” you beg, weaving yourself hams through his hair. When you tug lightly, Jumin grabs your wrist. He pushes you back into the couch, holding you down, caging you in. 

“Jumin?” You say too sweetly for how he feels. 

“What?” He snarls, shaking you slightly. You look scared. A part of him hates it, but another, darker part of him lives for it. He thinks it’s good. You should be frightened. You should be terrified. “What do you want me to do?! Fuck you into compliance?!”

Tears roll down your face, your precious, angelic, treacherous face. The face that he loves. The face that he wants to ruin. Slowly, you nod your head. 

“Anything, Jumin,” you choke out. “I’ll do anything you want. That was the deal, right?” 

“Do you have  _ any  _ idea what I was thinking?!” He demands. You can only shake your head. One of Jumin’s hands flies to your throat, the other hitching your dress up. “I was  _ terrified  _ that I’d lost you! Do you understand how that feels?!” 

“I’m sorry,” you crack out, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“No you’re not. You’re not sorry yet. You’re just sorry you got caught.” 

“ _ No…” _

Jumin’s fingers prod your folds. It’s some sinister joke from the universe to have you look at him, horrified, but still be so beautifully wet and ready to take him. He growls. 

“I could fuck you right now,” he snaps, erratic, “but I’m not going to. Do you know why? Because I want to hurt you. I want to  _ hurt  _ you so badly, sweetheart. I want you to feel exactly how I feel. I want to rip your world to shreds. I want to see you scream. I want you to beg me to stop—to cry out as I thrust my cock into you while you’re tied down and  _ helpless.  _ But I won’t. Do you want to know why? Do you want to know  _ fucking  _ why, my beautiful  _ bride _ ? Because I fucking love you.” 

“Hurt me, Jumin,” you warble out. “I deserve it. Show me, baby. I- I can handle it.” 

“ _ No,”  _ Jumin hisses and hoists you over his shoulder. You’re silent as he carries you into the study, or as you aptly named it, the  _ cage  _ room. He unlocks the cage, and eases you into it with less force that he’d intended. Yes, he wants to hurt you, but he will never. Never. 

The cage door slams and he watches you grip onto the metallic poles, gazing sadly up to him from your new temporary home. 

“If you’re going to act like an animal,” Jumin says, fixing his hair, regaining his composure, “then I’m going to treat you like an animal.” 


End file.
